On Knowing
by Elektra3
Summary: Parvati on life, love, knowledge, and just about everything in between. Contains some Lavender/Parvati slash.


Folks, this contains references to slash. In other words, it has a same-sex pairing, so if you're revolted by the concept of two girls in love, _please_ don't waste my time with childish flames.

That nonsense put aside, I had a lot of fun writing this. I know that a lot of people see Parvati as a complete ditz, but I'm not one of them. (Actually, it would be more accurate to say that my life philosophy is based on the belief that nobody is ever a complete _anything._ But that's really philosophical nit-picking.) Furthermore, there's quite a bit of canon evidence for RighteousBabe!Parvati. Think about the way she defends Neville in the first book, or how she sticks up for Lavender when Hermione tries to use her, Lavender's, rabbit's death as a reason why Divination is inaccurate, or the way she doesn't put up with Harry ignoring her at the Yule Ball… Well, you get the picture. The point is, although she does like things that are thought of as ditzy, they aren't _all_ she is.

Cookies for anyone who can figure out what play I based the disclaimer on!

Disclaimer: Hath not a fanfiction writer eyes? Hath not a fanfiction writer hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a published author is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if we claim that we own anything pertaining to Harry Potter, will you not sue our asses off?

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1. Lavender

Our first kiss would probably have never made it into the romance novels we're so fond of. Awkward and unwieldy, complete with noses that knocked together and hands that weren't quite sure what to do with themselves, it went on for maybe half a minute before we finally dissolved into giggles. But… Oh, I don't know. It's just so different when you kiss a girl. With boys, it's all physical: Exchanging saliva through mashed-together lips and tongues. Don't get me wrong, it's a lot of fun, but once you break away there's just nothing _there._ Nothing but his leftover sweat and a vague feeling of disappointment.

But it's different when you kiss a girl.

Here's how it happened: In just about the most unromantic setting you could imagine. In the dungeons. Can you believe that? I know that some people think there's something awfully romantic about dark, smelly, underground tunnels… ooh, possibility for a nasty double entendre there… anyway, I know that some people think they're romantic, but I don't know. I've just never seen anything at all romantic about walls with nasty green older-than-I-care-to-think-about fungus growing all over them. So I never expected that I would ever kiss anyone there. Especially not my best friend. Especially not my best friend who's a girl.

But I'm really getting off the topic. So here's how it happened: Lavender had just walked in on Seamus – and honestly, I don't know _what_ she ever saw in him because he's an absolute idiot who makes Ron "Honestly, Hermione, I didn't know that when you fancy a girl you should actually tell her instead of starting huge rows with her" Weasley look like the soul of manly sensitivity and Harry "I might be the world-famous wizard who defeated You-Know-Who but I can't talk to a girl to save my life" Potter look like Casanova – anyway, she walked in on her scum-sucking wanker of a boyfriend snogging with Hannah Abbot in one of the greenhouses. And then (she told me about this later because I obviously wasn't there or I would have cursed him or at least hit him with a nasty hex) she didn't say anything, she just ran back toward the castle as fast as she could, crying. I know _that_ at least because I just had come out of the castle (I was looking for her and heard that she was going to the greenhouses to pick up her book bag, which you definitely don't want to leave in the greenhouses or a Venomous Tentacula will probably eat it) and she ran past me with tears in her eyes. So of course I followed her.

She got all the way to the dungeons before I caught up with her – Lavender's always been a faster runner than me – and that was mostly because she stopped on her own. (Well, I told you that she's faster than me.) Slumped down on the floor and started to rock back and forth. And I sat down beside her and asked what was wrong.

I'll tell you this now: I honestly didn't know what would happen. Lavender's the Seer, not me. All I know is that when I sat down, gave her a hug, and asked what was wrong, she didn't answer. She just kissed me, full on the mouth.

Remember what I said earlier about how awkward it was? Well, that's not completely true. The part about the hands and the noses was true, but as for the rest of it… Well, it was awkward, I won't deny that, and we did giggle afterwards, and it only lasted about thirty seconds, but it just felt so absolutely right and _true,_ at the moment I couldn't have imagined wanting to do anything else. We've gotten less awkward by now (and our hands know quite well what to do with themselves, thank you very much) but the rightness always stays the same. And I have the funny feeling (even though I'm not really much of a Seer) that it's not going to change for quite awhile.

So I don't know.

Maybe it really should be put in a romance novel after all.

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2. Hermione

It's sort of a tradition by now, but when I was a first year it frightened me out of my wits: At some point in the year, Hermione will sneak out of our dormitory. Actually, it still scares me, because she's always had a way of knowing things that no average schoolgirl should know. Not that Hermione has ever been average by any stretch of the imagination. But these things she knows… it's not really the textbook facts she bores us all with, it's what she learns from being one of Harry's best friends. It's almost like it eats her up inside.

Hermione took the news of me and Lavender in stride. Hermione takes a lot of things in stride. But then she doesn't. If that makes any sense at all. You see, she has a tendency to process information without really taking it in – that's probably why she didn't end up in Ravenclaw, because… well, I'm not really an expert on Ravenclaws, but from what I've seen of Padma's friends, grades are really just a side effect. Knowledge to them is about reading completely random books on completely random topics, or calculating the velocity of a hypothetical situation, or making odd jokes that nobody really understands. I don't know. Maybe I'm generalizing too much; like I said before, I've never pretended to be an expert on Ravenclaws. But whatever it is that makes a Ravenclaw a Ravenclaw, I don't think that Hermione really has it. She's as smart as – smarter than – them, but… I don't know. Maybe the difference is that where most Ravenclaws go deep, Hermione goes far.

But getting back to the original topic. Hermione took the news of me and Lavender perfectly in stride – didn't even blink, just said, "Congratulations" and went back to her homework – but at the same time she didn't. It's subtle, nothing more than a slight freezing of her face when she sees us holding hands – yes, I know, it's horribly cliché, but we still do it – but it's still there. And she never says a thing.

That's what scares me most about what Hermione knows, what scares me most about the way she slips out of bed late at night. She'll talk you to death about something trivial, but when it comes to something important her lips are sealed. And even though we're not really close, it worries me, because she's the kind of person who'll let herself be eaten up with secrets if she thinks it's for a good cause. I know that she doesn't talk to Ron or Harry – how could she? Harry's just too closed off, and Ron is… well, Ron. Ginny Weasley is a possibility (I once came back from a Hogsmeade trip to see them painting their nails together, and even though Hermione would probably deny it, she was giggling) but Ginny is… hmm. Ginny's a great girl, but ever since she came back from the Chamber of Secrets second year, white as a sheet and refusing to talk to anyone, she's been too brittle to hold secrets. Trust, yes, but not secrets.

I just hope that I'm wrong.

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3. Padma

We were born identical, if you don't count the fact that we're different people. Which you probably don't.

Don't worry, I'm not blaming you for it. If I got angry at everyone who couldn't tell the difference between me and my sister, I would end up blaming the entire world. Which would be stupid. So I don't. Blame the entire world, that is.

When we were younger, though, it used to make me furious. Our mother would have just finished dressing us up in one of those "twin" outfits – you know, the kind that seems like it was designed to make you and your sister look like a pair of matching pastries? – or maybe she didn't quite get that far, because I would glare at her, my hands on my hips, say, "No!" and refuse to get dressed until she let me wear something different. Padma always thought that was hilarious, for some reason.

_Now _do you see what I mean about Ravenclaws and jokes?

And then my mother would sigh, and just Look at me, and I would always wind up wearing the outfit anyway.

I haven't thrown a temper tantrum in a long time, but it still makes me mad. Not furious, Hermione-talking-about-house-elves mad, but the deeper kind. The kind that stews inside. You know that you _shouldn't_ be mad, know that there's nothing to be mad about that people can help, but there's a part of me that's infuriated by the way people usually can only tell me and Padma apart by our House colors.

Padma's never seemed to mind it – but then, Padma never seems to get angry about everything. No, that's not true. It's a family joke that I got the anger for both of us, but believe me, Padma is capable of getting angry. She just doesn't agonize over small things. She doesn't need to; I usually agonize enough for both of us.

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4. Pansy

Ever since we were Sorted, Pansy's been trying her hardest to make sure that I hate her. At least in public. Then in private (which, at Hogwarts at least, means never) she turns around and behaves exactly like she used to when we played together. Padma, she treats the same, just a bit colder than normal. I guess a Ravenclaw is safer for a Slytherin to like than a Gryffindor.

I still don't know whether I like Pansy or not. She's odd. Not odd-odd, exactly, but there's something a bit… off… in her. You think that she'd be weak inside – she has the least self-esteem of anyone I've ever met – but she's strong too. One of the strongest people I know, but weak, too. And I'm sorry if that didn't make any sense – I know that it didn't make any sense, because it doesn't make any sense to _me,_ and I've been trying to figure Pansy out for years. All I've managed to figure out, though, is that Pansy Dracaena Parkinson, soon to be Pansy Dracaena Malfoy, is one of those people you just don't figure out. And don't even _talk_ about why she and Millicent Bulstrode – who calmly informed me the first time we ever met (we were six at the time) that if I ever called her Milly or Millicent (she prefers Mil – don't ask me why) there would be then-unexplained-but-given-her-size-quite-clear consequences that I wouldn't like very much, and that she was happy to meet me – are such close friends. Maybe it's a Slytherin thing.

But Slytherin things or no Slytherin things, there's something fundamentally inexplicable about Pansy. Maybe it has something to do with knowing your future husband at the age of six. Or maybe it's deeper – growing up in a family known for its background in the Dark Arts (and I have no idea why my mother had me and Padma play with her, but I'm grateful that she did in an odd sort of way, because it would be even stranger to not know the children in the house that's barely a hundred feet away from yours) and expected to be Sorted into Slytherin, _she_ certainly doesn't know who she is, so how can anyone else?

But I do know that I'll never hate her. Even though she's a Slytherin.

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5. Parvati

I don't like talking about myself much. I like to gossip, but not about myself. Except by accident. Which is an accident, so it doesn't really count.

I have this odd phobia about turning in homework assignments. Every time I turn in an essay, there's a sort of nagging doubt that it's horrible, and the teacher will slice through it and reveal it for the fraud it really is. Which is absurd, since I don't really concentrate too much on my schoolwork; people are much more important to me. But then, it's not really about homework. (Nothing is, really.) I suppose – and this is something I definitely have in common with Padma – I suppose that I want people to think that I'm real. Does that make sense? Not really. But it does. Sort of. I'm babbling.

I guess what I mean is that I don't want to have to be too thick to see through. I don't want to be transparent, but I want to be visible. To myself, even if to nobody else. I've never been very good with words, and it's stupid to try to sum myself up in a sentence, but here it is: I want to know that there's something there inside my skin. Yes. That sounds right. I want to know for sure that there's something inside.


End file.
